We love dogs over here at the Quill Sisters. They’re so darn cute and trusting and loveable–which can be a welcome change after you’ve been roundly ignored by your cat all day. You’re going to love this and you don’t have to speak Finnish or Swedish or whatever it is to get it.

There was a follow up video showing cat’s responses to magic and it went about as well as you’d expect.

Guess what? Well, you probably already did guess–like five days ago, but Amylynn didn’t die while camping. You may also presume that she did not find Bigfoot. We imagine that when we finally do nab the fellow, there will be a media frenzy. We’re hoping to have lost some weight by then. Here’s to positive thinking. And donuts. See that right there? That’s why we’re never going to “find” Bigfoot. Even if we do, we can’t tell anyone about it because the camera adds ten pounds. You see how the media ruins everything? Occasionally it also brings us funny stuff. Like these gems.

1. The Pope needs to take a run back through the gift shop. Queen Elizabeth took a vacation to the Vatican–somewhere the Sisters are dying to go themselves–and met with Pope Francis. She brought a gift as any guest should do when visiting the house of a friend. She brought honey, whiskey and goodies from the royal estates. Nice, right? Well thought out, we believe. What does the Pope do to reciprocate? He gives her a blue stone orb topped with a sharp cross to give her great-grandson, Prince George. Who is an infant. **blink blink** The Queen said, “[he] will be thrilled by that–when he’s a little older.” Isn’t there a giant gift shop at the Vatican? Maybe the Pope has a gift closet where he stuffs crap and white elephant gifts other dignitaries gave him that he could browse. Surely there’s a rattle floating around there somewhere?

2. It’s a miracle any of them live. A 21 year-old man in Pittsburgh was taken to the emergency room with a chainsaw sticking out of his neck. Some how he managed to miss all the major arteries and such and stuck the blade in his muscle. He works for a tree service and was at work at the time of the accident. One of his co-workers rescued him from the tree, leaving the chainsaw stuck in his neck to try to keep the bleeding to a minimum. Quick thinking, eh? Or maybe the guy just didn’t want buckets of blood in his truck. Either way, we think our guy should reevaluate his employment options. Possibly doing something that doesn’t involve sharp objects. Maybe in a marshmallow factory.

3. Willie’s armadillo. Apparently, Willie Nelson’s stuffed armadillo was kidnapped in Las Vegas a while back. We have no idea how we missed this important news. Well, it doesn’t matter because it was returned by an anonymous man this week and it’s been shipped back to Mr. Nelson. When this article was discovered Ava crinkled the paper and said, “Who would steal an armadillo?” I asked for more information. She explained the circumstances. I raised my eyebrow at her and said with absolute certainty, “We would totally do that. A – It’s an armadillo, and B – it belongs to Willie Nelson.” She agreed. That had our earmark all over it. Now that I’ve disclosed this information I want to make it perfectly clear that we’ve not been any where near Las Vegas and we did not force one of our husbands to return an armadillo.

4. Share the wealth people. Calvin and Zatera Spencer of Portsmouth Virginia have won the lottery a whole bunch–1M on a scratcher game this week, another 1M in March on the Powerball, and another 50k in the state lottery in March as well. We’re telling you where they live because we think the smart play here is to buy the tickets immediately before and immediately after they do. Maybe some good luck will rub off.

5. Clearly very good at bubbling in on tests. The parents of Kwasi Enin should be very, very proud. This young man applied for and was accepted by all eight ivy league schools.  Harvard, Yale, Brown, Columbia, University of Pennsylvania, Dartmouth, Princeton and Cornell. That is a horrendous feat and one that’s rarely duplicated, if ever it has been. Imagine what that kids test scores look like. And what must his essays say? Do you suppose he wrote eight of them or just sent the same one eight times? As soon as his parents get over their well deserved pride, they should immediately go lie down. The stress over the tuition will be descending on them shortly. We hope they like eating Ramen noodles for the next four years.

Maybe it’s allergies. I don’t know, but I’m exhausted. There’s all kinds of good stuff for Friday’s Five Favorite Things. Stay tuned.

I told you yesterday that I must have a new author photo. I also told you that I don’t want to. Ava is being all kinds of helpful–she thinks–by finding all kinds of poses for me to do. The bigger problem is that I’ll still be in the picture regardless if I’m posed like Meryl Streep.

Anyway, apparently, she was talking to the girl who lives at her house about my misfortune and laughing about it (probably, that’s just how I imagine the conversation going. I may be a bit paranoid about this picture), when her darling daughter wanted to know why Ava wasn’t getting her own picture taken.

RIGHT? That’s what I want to know. I always liked that child.

The girl thinks that the Quill Sisters should have a promo photo as well.

So that got my mind to whirling. It should be a funny photo since we write a humor blog.

Light bulb!

We need a mug shot. Honestly, it’s only a matter of time before we get a real one anyway. We asked the guard at BofNF if he still had

This is what I’m talking about. This is perfect!

any contacts at the jail or the sheriff’s office that would let us go in and get a mug shot taken.

“We’ll use our own camera,” I promised.

“We won’t be any trouble,” Ava assured him.

He said no. Can you believe that? Why is everyone against us?

Little help?

I need to get a new author photo done. I can’t tell you how much anxiety this is causing me. I despise having my picture taken. It never comes out well. I’m not one of those people who says, “I don’t take good pictures” and then turns in a cover model photo. I hate those people. Hate.

Ava and I have been trying to figure out how to make this deficiency work to our favor. Here are a couple of options. Tell us what you think.

Do  you remember those baby goats we showed you a couple of weeks ago?

We really, really need one of those. They will provide us hours, literally hours of amusement. Believe me when I say you don’t want us bored.

I lived through my camping experience. It wasn’t so bad. I got almost an entire chapter written, so that was great. I didn’t find Bigfoot, so that sucked. The people who camped opposite us at the camp ground had a cat in a harness, so that was awesome. More on that later. No mama bears left me their cubs for safekeeping, so that was disappointing. Even though I never left the shade of our trailer’s awning, I still managed a sunburn, so that blew. I did see a herd of white tail deer, and that was nifty.

All in all I think things evened out.

Our little group was fairly large–13 of us in all–with another group of 5 hanging out for one day. We are all family and/or long time friends. That would also imply that we’re loud, funny and sarcastic. I just want to set the tone for you, dear readers.

This is Peko. It’s pronounced like pickle but without the “l”.  This name confusion caused a great deal of deliberation at the campsite. I’m not completely convinced that we ever resolved the issue completely. I am positive I’m right, though, because I told the woman when I took the kitty’s picture that he was going on my blog and I needed accurate information. Part of the problem could be that Pickle is a funny name for a cat. Peko not so much. This was a funny cat and he deserved a funny name. What made him a novelty was the simple fact that he was a cat. There are nine thousand and seven dogs at a camp ground. There was only one cat. He thoroughly enjoyed his walks around the place. What I think he especially enjoyed was riling the dogs all up into a frenzy.

I did have an exquisitely bizarre conversation with my father as we left to go camping. Remember, he had a stroke several years ago and now he lives with my brother full-time. Sometimes things can get a little strange–conversations can go off the rails. Honestly, you never know what to expect.

“Hey,” he said as we were getting ready to head out the door Friday morning. “Do you have any rancid meat in the house?”

I squinched up my eyebrows and sniffed the air. “No.”

“You don’t have any chicken parts lying around?” He must have read my bemused look correctly because he added helpfully, “Maybe some gizzards?”

“No.”

“Really? No rancid meat in the refrigerator?”

“What the hell, old man? Why would I have that?”

He shrugged. I finally deduced that he was looking for catfish bait. He proceeded to ask every single person at our camp site if they had rancid meat they were willing to share. The problem with that was he didn’t explain why he wanted it. I swear I should send him around with a manual for making sense.

I have some concerns here and I’ll lay them out for you.

1. I don’t think I want to ever eat catfish again if they are that enticed by rancid meat. Ick. I knew they were bottom feeders, but that’s a little too graphic for me.

2. What the hell is going on in my brother’s kitchen?

I popped into Amazon today to check how the books were doing.

This is what I saw for Miss Goldsleigh’s Secret.

I may or may not have screamed something that starts M and F, and is entirely inappropriate for work.

Wow.

We were made to be awesome!